


Round'n'Round

by another_maggies



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, JTS aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_maggies/pseuds/another_maggies
Summary: Jackson and April have to deal with more than just a baby when they return from Montana. An attempt at what I hope/anticipate to happen this Thursday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics and title taken from Gil - Round'n'Round   
> (Which is perfect for Japril, check it out ;))

_Round and round and round it goes  
And where it stops nobody knows _

When she was little April harbored a fierce love for checklists. At six years her daily schedule looked like this:   
_Chores – Check.  
Homework – Check.  
Piano – Check.  
Play – Check.  
Set table – Check.  
Pray – Check._

As she grew in age her tasks did not only grow in number, but in detail and difficulty.  
16-year-old April would be happy to check of something like “ _Biology project. Green paper, white info boxes, 4 – 6 pictures. Print text boxes at the library, pictures at the copyshop (use money from last Saturday). Serif font, sizes 16 (captions), 12 (text). Ask Alice to use her good glue._ ”  
28-year-old April lost a bit of self-confidence when her motivational words “ _Remember: You're not just a good doctor, you're a great doctor. You are the future of medicine. Only you can keep you down._ ” were just against her (she never checked it off).  
Ever since she was more cautious of were her notebook was and what she put on her lists. They regressed in what they'd grown since she started writing them up until the point that she didn't write them down anymore.  
The only lists 34-year-old April kept were shopping lists. And of course, there had been the baby name list before they settled on Harriet. But that was it. No more lists, no more check offs, no more.

Yet when she returned from a work trip (family trip? Labeling could get difficult in the life of a divorced-but-living-with-my-ex-single-mom.) to Montana, baby in her arm and all, April found herself checking up a few points in her head.  
 _Divorced – Check.  
Single mom – Check.  
Living with ex – Check.  
Working with ex – Check.  
Kissing ex – Check.  
Sleeping with ex – Check.  
Romantic feelings for ex – Check._  
No. Actually. Check that. They weren't romantic. Not entirely anyway. They were friendly, too. And still a bit annoyed, but understanding. They were sensual, they were platonic. Before the weekend she might have called them troubled, bad even. But now...  
 _Complicated feelings for ex – Check._  
Yep, that would work.

Harriet begun fuzzing in April's arms catching her attention. A quick lift from baby bottom to mommy nose and April knew exactly what her baby needed. She sighed. She had missed her baby, but, honestly, she hadn't missed changing her.

“Okay, princess. Let's get you into a fresh diaper, and then find something to eat.” Finding food for Harriet wouldn't be difficult, because she wasn't ready for solids yet. April, however, had to eat something in order to produce food for her baby, and she wasn't sure the gummy worms she had on the plane (at least Jackson remembered about the peanuts) would suffice. Her stomach surely didn't think so.

As April walked into the nursery for once she was happy Jackson insisted on having the house cleaned once a week. She would have hated to take care of the diapers she'd spilled in a haste as they left on Friday right now. It was funny for her to think about.   
When they'd been married she'd insisted on doing the housekeeping herself. Even when she was in Jordan she asked Jackson not to hire someone to do it. The state in which the apartment was when she returned left her suspicious as to whether he'd kept that promise, but nothing ever showed up in their bills.  
Now, as a new mother working full time, she appreciated not having to clean up everything herself. She kept tidy, because that was how she was raised. But cleaning the floors and windows? That wasn't her job anymore, and she was glad. She might have managed, would have managed if she'd had to with Harriet in a flat. After her incisions were healed. You had to give it to her that Jackson's house was bigger than a flat, and that she'd never gone full time after giving birth if she'd had to share her time with her daughter between work and her ex-husband. It was all very different from what she'd imagined upon first finding out she was pregnant.

“Ugh, what did grandma feed you?” The diaper was one of the nasty sort. Although she knew grandma had been feeding her the same she always got, April couldn't resist asking. It wasn't like Harriet would answer, anyway. That would be incredible at her age.

April changed her as quickly as possible. It didn't help the crying, because her baby was still hungry. “Shhh, I know you're hungry, Hattie. Mama is too. Just let me get something real quick...”

With Harriet against her shoulder she walked over to the kitchen. She checked the fridge first (She actually put a list for that one once; Where to find food when you're hungry and mom's gone. It was mostly to help her little sisters. Obviously.) - nothing there except some mayo and disgusting barbecue sauce Jackson liked to put on everything. Cupboard next – pasta, flour, other baking stuff, some cereal – that would do! She reached for it only to remember that she didn't like cereal without milk and there was none. Not for her, anyway. The next cupboard with some canned beans didn't help a lot, either. She found a bag of Ritz in Jackson's private cupboard. She really liked those. But this was Jackson's private cupboard...  
Okay, April, think, she told herself. If Jackson was here would she ask? Probably. Would he say yes? Maybe. Her eyes drifted over to the crying baby in her arms. Would he say yes if she was starving and couldn't go out, because she had to feed his daughter that he made? Yes, definitely.  
 _Steal ex's private food – Check._

 

“I... it was weird”, Jackson said in lack for a better adjective to describe his experience to his mother. She had insisted on treating him to lunch, only him, which was strange for her especially since she was all about April nowadays, but then given what had happened in Montana it wasn't that strange after all.

“Weird? Now that's a word I would give to the positions I sometimes find my grand baby in after a nap. If I didn't know better I could swear April didn't quit after one class of baby and me yoga. Your kid is flexible.”

Catherine's words were supposed to draw a big smile from her son, but they didn't. His daughter usually cheered him up, but right now she couldn't. Not when she was brought up next to the woman that he couldn't get off his mind.

April.  
What had happened with her had made it pretty easy for him to say goodbye forever to his father. He had been euphoric in that moment, happy, ecstatic. They'd just written medical history together. They saved a girl's life together (which, given that they once hadn't been able to save their own child's life was double the awesome). They spent the night together.  
And that's where things got complicated. Because they talked. And it was a nice talk. But. They didn't talk about it.   
Not at work, that would have been unprofessional. But not when they drove to the airport, not when they were on a plane together for hours. They just didn't.  
April talked about this and that, and he was glad, because he didn't want to talk about his father. He considered talking about it, but then he chose not to. She obviously didn't seem interested in discussing it, either. She could have brought it up any time. And therefore, as he was enjoying himself to much just being friends again (God, he'd missed that), just talking he chose the coward's way out. He chose not to talk about it. 

Now here he was, trying to talk to his mother about his strange encounter(s) with his father while his mind was concerned with a whole other person.  
Weird was a good word to sum up his state of mind.

“I don't know, ma, I just... he wanted to know about me, but he- he didn't regret leaving.” Jackson shook his head. “Not once.”  
He wondered, of course, whether April did. She'd never said. He highly suspected she didn't. But if he resented his father for leaving and not regretting it, didn't he have to resend April for doing the same? Was it the same, though? Leaving your son because you hate the expectations forced upon you and leaving your husband because you can't see him in your own grief? Was it?

“I'm sorry to hear that, honey”, Catherine said reaching out to squeeze his hand. It felt different from when April squeezed it before he went in to talk to his father. Hers were softer, tinier...

“I'm a good father”, he told her suddenly. Not only her. Their waiter, too, as he put their drinks down.

“Of course you are, baby. Did anybody say anything different?” A frown appeared on her face as her eyes widened. “Did April...”

“NO! No, she said I'm great, actually.” Jackson scratched the back of his head, a nervous habit of his. Also a place April liked to scratch in the past, or, yesterday... “She said I'm great.”

He waited for an reply, some snarky remark. None came. As soon as he lifted his eyes up to his mother's face it dawned upon him: she'd figured him out. Dammit. Just because she didn't suspect anything when they first started sleeping together... he shouldn't have been so careless. The last thing he needed was a lecture about taking advantage of his ex-wife.  
Not that he did. She could have stopped him. She could have- they met each other's eyes. They chose to. Together. He didn't take advantage of her. He didn't make any promises he could. They didn't talk about it. 

But he let her touch him, after. He held her, he caressed her shoulder, her arm. They cuddled.  
Wasn't that already a promise on its own accord?

“Well, I gotta give that to you, Jackson”, Catherine admitted taking a sip of her drink. “You three make an adorable family.”

“Thanks”, he sighed, his hand now free to be run over his face along with it.  
This was not the first time he'd heard that compliment. Early after Harriet's birth when April was more dependent on him they would go out together, once she was cleared for that. To keep her from going to the hospital, which only frustrated her in the end, and from pushing the stroller for too long, which was above the described level of activity then. They'd go to the park, to a coffee shop, grocery shopping. Normal family stuff. Harriet was newborn, and extraordinarily beautiful even to people who were not as biased as her parents, so she attracted attention naturally. And with every “oh, she's such a sweet baby” eventually came “you're a beautiful family”.   
The first time he didn't know what to say. We're divorced? We're not a family? It didn't feel right. April, of course, knew what to do. She smiled a brave fake smile and said “thank you”. So that's what Jackson said nowadays.  
One time, April was feeding the ducks with Harriet lying on her lap a couple of feet away while Jackson had remained on the bench with the stroller and diaper bag, an old lady sitting next to him almost floored him when she said: “You've got two beautiful girls. You're very lucky.” It took him a few seconds to retain his composure then. But as he looked over at them - April making exaggerated faces at their baby – the smile and “thank you” came easy. For a moment he even believed it. His girls. He liked the sound of that.  
And then April went back to work, and April started Tinder, and Jackson quit Tinder, and April went on a date, and Jackson and Harriet rescued her from that date, and April quit Tinder, and Jackson and April supported Webber, and April took Meredith's job, and April stopped supporting Webber, and Jackson stopped supporting April, and it all went to hell.

 

“April? I'm home”, Jackson called as he entered the house.

It surprised him when she immediately popped her head out of the bathroom, clad in a towel, hair wet. That was an unusual sight.“Shhh”, she told him, her finger pressed to her lips, “I just put her down for a nap like half an hour ago.”

He wanted to say something daring, something clever to impress her. He said: “Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

“It's okay”, she replied with a shrug as she walked out of the bathroom to her room. Her back was to him and... damn, he should get some bigger towels (or maybe he should get rid off all of those that were bigger than the one that she was wearing now, which didn't cover her back at all). “You didn't know, and she always sleeps well after nursing.”

The image of April's breasts, although in a very unerotic setting didn't help to keep his eyes off her. Perhaps she didn't even mind. She'd started walking across the hallway in that mini towel in the first place. Maybe she'd planned this even, maybe she-

No. No, even if she'd planned this he couldn't, he shouldn't. They needed to have a talk about it first. A real talk. Not post-sex-I-so-love-touching-you talk.

 

April only noticed how short the towel was when she viewed herself in the mirror. She hadn't thought twice about it when she laid it out before ever setting foot into the shower. The others were apparently at the washer's right now. Those were the biggest available. She never even considered Jackson coming home. Or better: she never considered Jackson seeing her in an incredibly short towel. She never considered walking across the hallway oblivious, as if this was normal. As if what they had in Montana changed anything about anything.

But it really did, to her. It changed everything.

She'd purposefully avoided talking about it on the plane. This happy bubble they were in was too beautiful, too close to what they once had when they were young and in love to let it burst. She wasn't suppressing the inevitable. She was postponing it.  
If Jackson had at any point initiated a talk she would have jumped at the opportunity. But he didn't, and so why should she? They were both adults. They could make their own choices. And not talk about them.

A groan escaped April as she started dressing. Before this trip she was looking at flats, and now? She hated feeling so clueless.

As she continued to dress herself into something comfy for the evening she listened carefully, but there were no footsteps in the hallway, which meant Jackson had stayed in the living room. So she wouldn't be able to avoid him forever. Not only would he see her every move from the couch, but she preferred hanging out there too. Her room was relatively small, smaller than Harriet's nursery even. It was good for sleeping, but not good for spending a lot of time in it.

“Oh to hell with it.” Sometimes a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do, even if that involves bursting happy bubbles.

 

The feelings Jackson experienced when April came out of her room five minutes after disappearing into it were mixed. He felt happy to see her, but also afraid of what their talk would bring. They couldn't put it off for very much longer, that was for sure. Everything felt different now that they were not in Montana anymore, but home. Or whatever this place was they lived at. Together.

“Hey”, he greeted.

“Hey”, she replied, arms wrapped around her chest as it often was when she felt a bit cold after showering. She always took showers so hot it occasionally left her dizzy. “What are you watching?”

“Uhm... Stephen Colbert.” He'd barely acknowledged what he'd turned on there. It was more like white noise beneath his loud, echoing thoughts.

“Any good?”

He shrugged. She sat down next to them. That wasn't new, but somehow it felt like it. Everything felt... different.

They watched for a while, none of them really paying attention to the show. Their focus was on each other as they tried catching glimpses from the corner of their eye. Jackson was trying very hard to find the right words to start the conversation with, but came up empty handed. Lucky for him, April had an universal conversation starter thanks to empty fridge and cupboards.

“I ate your Ritz”, she blurted. “I had to nurse Harriet and I was hungry and there was nothing and so I just... I took them, and I ate some.”

“Oh-kayyy”, he stretched, not sure what else to say. If she hadn't told him he would have been none the wiser. He didn't even remember buying them. 

April turned around then, facing him directly. “Jackson, I... I think we need to talk about Montana”, she said then, biting her lower lip as she'd done the other night under very different circumstances.

“I... er, agree”, he agreed. His throat suddenly felt very dry, he cleared it. “Let's talk about it.”

“Okay...” She ran a hand through her still wet hair, clearly flustered. “Okay. Uhm... I don't know how to start talking about it, to be honest. I thought about it and then I didn't and then I just... I... Jackson, we've got a daughter.”

He knew that of course, but he also knew what she was talking about. In Montana they were back to who they were at the beginning of their marriage, no, even earlier, their friendship: Jackson and April, April and Jackson. A two for one deal. Only each other to love, and to hurt. But they would never really be alone again. They had a daughter, and she should only be loved, never hurt.

“I know”, he said, “Shit, April. I know...”

“We're divorced”, she added to her list.

“I know.” Jackson shook his head, this was already getting exhausted and they had barely touched ground yet.

For a second they let the silence linger, just listening to each other's breathing and the laughs of Stephen Colbert's audience.

“Do you remember when Matthew broke up with me, because I lied about my virginity and I took it out on you?”

Jackson nodded, although he didn't get the change of topic.

April inhaled deeply before she spoke again. “You said you'd never regret what we did. Well. I don't either. Not this time. Not ever.”

Jackson exhaled, and just like that they were breathing together. “I don't either”, he repeated.

Their eyes met and they stared, blinked, stared. They stopped breathing, and then. And then.

“Where do we go from here?”

_Heaven knows what we would know  
This love is strong, oh please don't go _

**Author's Note:**

> Soo.... what do you think? Where will they go? I hope for a happy end, but in Shondaland can we ever be sure?


End file.
